Trouble Brewing
by Persephone Kore
Summary: Complete. Cowritten with Alan Sauer. In the course of mishaps in Potions, adventures in chameleon wrangling, and classroom pranks, Ginny Weasley realizes that not all Tom Riddles are created equal in this followup to Who We Are.
1. 1 of 4

_Disclaimer: This story is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No material profit is intended or expected, and no infringement or offense is meant._

Note: This story is a sequel to "Who We Are" and will make somewhat more sense in that context.

**Trouble Brewing  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 1/4**

Ginny Weasley had never expected Professor Snape to stop being the worst thing about Potions.

She had, perhaps foolishly, been hoping for a comparatively uneventful second year. Things had been going very well up to a point.

Frankly, after Charlie's dragons and the twins' leaving nearly every small and relatively harmless creature traditionally expected to frighten young maidens in her bed at some point or another, she felt herself to be reasonably well prepared. 

There had been no brawls in the course of shopping for school supplies, and no one untoward had handled her textbooks.

And then, during dinner on the first night back at Hogwarts, He Who Must Not Be Named had attacked the school. Ginny wasn't quite sure of the details of what had gone on -- being short, she hadn't gotten to one of the windows in the Great Hall in time. Many of the older Gryffindors _had_ seen, and the common room had buzzed with talk that night -- not all of it terribly clear or consistent.

Harry Potter had somehow turned You-Know-Who into a young boy. You-Know-Who had turned himself into a boy as some sort of trap, which had either backfired severely or succeeded beyond wildest imagining since the boy was now in Hogwarts. You-Know-Who had Summoned a boy from somewhere who then joined Harry in attacking and killing him. Harry had made some sort of anti-Dark Wizard that made their enemy disappear when the professors couldn't do a thing. 

Harry himself had been fine all through dinner, then suddenly so very sleepy that he nearly fell down entering the common room and promptly stumbled up to bed. Ginny, therefore, despite a certain uneasy sense of foreboding, remained uncertain as to what exactly had gone on other than that it involved Harry's defeat of You-Know-Who(again) and possibly a new student she hadn't seen. 

She learned more than she wanted to the next day, when her first class was double Potions with the Slytherins and Snape seated a horribly familiar new student next to her. 

"Tom Riddle." Already at her desk, dipping her quill into ink to label her notes for the day, Ginny froze for a moment as Snape pronounced the name and then forced herself to look up at the professor... and at the boy who had just come through the door. 

Black hair. Fair skin. Green eyes. When she had first seen the "friend" who had written back from the diary, she had thought he looked a little as if Harry had grown up and learned to comb his hair. He was cuter with it messy, if heroes were supposed to be cute.... 

But the features weren't Harry's, and the last time she had seen them, they had faded from her vision as all colors drained to grey and then to black, as her life had drained out of her. She had thought she was dying. 

She had been. 

Tom Riddle. He Who Must Not Be Named before anyone had feared his name. 

Harry must _have_ turned him back into a boy. But, she thought a bit hysterically, couldn't he have made him any other age?

"Why don't you sit..." Snape's eyes roved the room and fell on the empty spot beside Ginny. She swallowed and wished wholeheartedly that she had made more friends last year, or failing that, that she had suggested to someone on the train or in the dormitory that they sit together in Potions. Professor Snape was smiling. "By Miss Weasley." 

"Um, hallo," Tom said as he sat down. He managed half of a smile before it died in the face of Ginny's ashen stare. "I'm, ah, Tom."

"I know," Ginny said faintly. "That is -- I heard." He didn't sound the same... but he did. Feeling as if her mind had gone half-numb, she reached quickly to clear a few sheets of her parchment out of his way, and knocked over her ink-bottle. 

"Erk. Um. I'll get that," Tom said, blotting the spilled ink with his handkerchief. "You can borrow my ink if you want."

Ginny flinched and righted the bottle as the puddle tried to escape the edge of the desk. "N-no. Thank you." 

There was an awkward silence, and then Snape began lecturing on the virtues of Preservative Potion.

Ginny dipped her quill into what ink was left in the bottle and began trying to take notes. She squeezed her eyes shut after the first sentence she wrote, quill held trembling in the air, then opened them before Snape could turn and ask if she'd gone to sleep. The words were still there, still her writing. As they should be. 

Between shaking hands and trying to conserve ink, however, her notes became increasingly hard to read even when she could pay attention to the lecture.

The line after she caught an accidental glimpse of Tom Riddle's notes was completely illegible.

"Psst," Tom whispered, "we're supposed to be getting our cauldrons out now. Are you all right?"

No. Not with him there. Ginny shook her head, then said, "Yes," and dug for her cauldron.

"Um... all right... could you pass the nettle oil then?"

Ginny set the cauldron down more forcefully than she'd intended, then picked up the bottle he'd asked for and tried to put it hurriedly on his half of the desk. When he reached to take it out of her hand, the smooth glass slipped from her fingers and dropped onto the desk, the oil slopping from around the loosened stopper.

"Ack!" Tom grabbed for the bottle, but only succeeded in splashing nettle oil all over his arm. It was highly concentrated, and angry red boils sprang up from his fingertips to his elbow within seconds.

Snape swooped in almost immediately. "Five points from Gryffindor for clumsiness, Miss Weasley. Mr. Riddle, you are excused to the hospital wing."

"It's not that bad, Professor, really --"

"Hospital wing, Riddle. Now."

Ginny thought she should apologize if she could only untie her tongue; she tried to say that she was sorry, but she couldn't even hear her own voice. 

She did manage to set the bottle upright, grabbing it with a cloth that was supposed to have been used for something else. She didn't suppose it mattered; most of the nettle oil was useless now anyway. 

"What was that, Weasley?" Snape's voice was menacing.

Ginny swallowed, desperately trying to get her voice back. "I said... that I was sorry." It was audible, even if it quavered. "To... Tom," she added. Professor Snape would probably have a comment about that, too, but at least he couldn't say she seemed to think apologizing to _him_ would do her any good.

"Perhaps it would have been prudent to say it before he left the room, Weasley. But your family is anything but prudent. Back to work."

She'd _tried_ to, but she bit her tongue at that and the insult to her family. The potion was, unsurprisingly, an abject failure. 

This was not a good start.

She had a feeling it was going to get worse.

*****

A month later, Tom was in the hospital wing for the seventeenth time, and although he and Ginny had actually made it through half the class this time, the situation had not notably improved. He was sporting a second nose that -- although Madam Pomfrey seemed sure she could remove it -- was not improving his day; his original was stuffed up, and the new one was runny.

Madam Pomfrey had just set an extra handkerchief beside him when Harry looked in the door, escorted by the Weasley twins and appearing much the worse for wear, with a large black-and-purple bump on his left cheek and temple. A cut over the cheekbone was still trickling blood.

"Harry! What happened to you?"

"Stray bludger," said Fred.

"It got past us," George explained. "Sorry about that, Harry." He gave Tom a slightly odd look.

Tom winced in sympathy, and blew his noses. "I got clipped by one last week -- they're a lot faster than I remember."

"Improved technology," Harry said, only slightly fuzzily. "I don't have that excuse."

"You lie down right now," Madam Pomfrey interrupted him firmly, steering him to the next bed over. "And you two go on back. Try not to send me any more prank victims today."

Tom waited until Madam Pomfrey had administered a Restorative to Harry and turned away to mix up whatever was going to eliminate his extra nose. "Ah... Harry, I've got kind of an... odd question."

"Go ahead." Harry fingered the swelling on his cheek tentatively, then decided to leave well enough alone and dropped his hand. "Did they do that?" He gestured toward the door.

"Who, Fred and George Weasley? No -- although that's sort of coincidental... you know their sister, Ginny, right?"

"Yes. Oh. Snape's been making you work together, I've heard. She's been jumpy about it."

"That's... kind of an understatement; I've almost started keeping my toothbrush here. Is she unusually clumsy, or... some other explanation?"

"Er... I'm not sure about normally," Harry said as tactfully as he could, considering that in his experience she _was_. "I've been kind of worried about her -- I didn't realize she was injuring you regularly, though. She had... last year was very strange."

"Strange how? I wouldn't ask, only it almost seems like she's terrified of me, and, well...."

Harry sighed and glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who chose this moment to disappear in search of other ingredients. "Well, you probably ought to know. It was... complicated. Students were being attacked and Petrified -- so were Mrs. Norris and Nearly Headless Nick, actually -- and until Hermione was attacked, most of the school thought it was me. And that I was the Heir of Slytherin." He paused. "Actually... you are."

Tom blinked, and wiped his left nose. "Was Ginny one of the people... who were attacked?"

"No." Harry grimaced. "No purebloods, actually. Anyway, it eventually turned out to be a Basilisk. Hermione had figured it out just before she was Petrified, but of course then she couldn't tell us. And... what we finally found out... was that Lucius Malfoy had slipped an old diary with a memory of Voldemort at sixteen into it... after he let the Basilisk out for the first time... in with Ginny's schoolbooks."

"A memory? I'm not sure I understand."

"Basically, he enchanted his... his personality into the diary. It looked blank, but when somebody wrote in it, he was there and could write back. And he... well, he pretended to be her friend and fed off what she wrote to him all year. Used her to attack people with the Basilisk, then finally kidnapped her and was going to kill her to make himself real again." Harry frowned. "So... most people don't know the details of this, and I don't know all of them... but nobody _used_ to know Voldemort had been Tom Riddle. And most, at least most of the students, hadn't actually _met_ him either way. Ginny...."

Tom felt sick. "That's awful. No wonder she's so twitchy in Potions... sixteen, you said?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know if she ever _saw_ him, exactly, but I wouldn't be surprised... he was pretty much solid at the end, and... well, I would've recognized you right off even if Voldemort hadn't been talking."

Tom closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. "I'd better ask Professor Snape if he can give us other partners, then. I can't even imagine... I'm amazed she's only spilled stuff on me."

Harry looked over at him. "I'm surprised you haven't asked _before_, if this happens all the time...."

"Well, at first I thought she was sick, or something. And then, well, I couldn't find you to ask you about it. And, well, Snape kind of scares me."

Harry suppressed the "Well" that tried to sneak onto the beginning of his response. "He usually favors Slytherins. Though I suppose it's not encouraging that he hasn't switched things around already...."

"I think it amuses him. Every time he sends me to the hospital wing he's got that sort of half-smile he wears when he's taking House points away from Gryffindor -- of course, he usually just _has,_ but last week Rensington blew up his Firestarter and he actually looked concerned." Tom paused. "Or at least I think he did. I was on my way out the door with a burned arm."

Harry winced. "That's... not encouraging. Have you tried just pairing up with someone else? He'll leave us alone when we do that at least part of the time...."

"I'm not exactly popular with the other Slytherins, and of course the Gryffindors won't give me the time of day."

"Hey." It wasn't a particularly vehement protest, primarily because Harry could only really argue the point in his own case. 

"Well, present company excepted, of course. Sorry."

Harry sighed. "It's all right. I know what you mean." He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Um... You know, after what you've described so far, I'm a little afraid to ask what you were imagining when you said you were amazed she'd _only_ spilled things."

"Well, it's not like she's doing it on _purpose._"

"I didn't think she was...."

"Well, that would be worse, if she were. I mean, from what I can see when she's not knocking over cauldrons, she's a fairly nice person. And since she's just terrified into being accident-prone, I can fix that by leaving her alone. It'd be different if she were actually trying to hurt me."

"She knows you're not really him." Harry paused. "I think. I did explain -- not that night, I was too sleepy, but the next day."

"Doesn't seem to be making much difference either way. Although at least now I know why she almost went for her wand when I offered to share my notes."

Harry winced at that thought. "Er... I think if she _did_ think you were him, she'd feel she _ought_ to try to hurt you."

"True. Well, I'll talk to Snape as soon as I'm back to my usual number of noses."

"Good luck." Harry hesitated. "I'll try to talk to Ginny, but I'm not sure if it'll help."

"I really think it'll be better once I'm not right there in her face all the time, but you know her better than I do.... Thanks."

"I'm just... not sure if Snape will listen, if he hasn't acted like he likes you so far."

"Well, I have to try _something._ She's going to hurt herself one of these days."

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the extra nose just as Tom sneezed. "Or you...."

Tom muttered something inaudible into his handkerchief as he wiped his noses.

"Bless you. What?"

Tom sighed. "I said, 'She doesn't deserve it.'"

Harry sat up abruptly. "Neither do you!"

"I'm twelve. The last time I was sixteen, I almost made her kill people. That's not, you'll notice, a whole lot of time."

"The whole point, you'll notice, of your being here is that you're _not him._"

"Now. I'm not him now. I don't know for sure how not to be him then. But I can leave Ginny alone and hope she gets better."

"You're not going to be unless you _try_ to," Harry said firmly, "which I don't think you will. But I suppose, if you can manage it, it might help to give Ginny... more room." He sighed. "It might keep you out of the hospital wing more, too."

"I wouldn't complain about that."

"I'd imagine not."

Tom sat back again, not sure what else to say, and just then Madam Pomfrey whisked back into view with a tiny spray bottle the contents of which made Tom's spare nose puff into vapor. "There you are, Tom. Do try to be more careful. You're feeling better as well, I hope, Harry?"

"Yes, thank you." The swelling had been going down all through the conversation. 

Madam Pomfrey went over and inspected it. "Almost done." She dabbed at it with a purple-soaked cloth that, despite looking like a bruise itself, left Harry's face unmarked afterward. "Off you go."

*****


	2. 2 of 4

**Trouble Brewing  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 2/4**

Another week -- and another visit to the hospital wing -- later, Tom was convinced that he was going to fail Potions. Snape had laughed off his request to change seating, and Ginny, if anything, was made more nervous by his attempts to be undemanding. Neither of them could concentrate -- at least, if she could he couldn't see how -- and no matter how much he could learn from a book, Potions required practice. This was difficult to do from the hospital wing. 

The really annoying thing was that -- barring actual malice or sabotage -- either one of them would probably have done reasonably well with another partner. At least, Tom knew he would....

And now the special Care of Magical Creatures session for the second-years was finally starting.

Tom had signed up for it because it was considered an advanced class, and at the time hadn't thought anything of it being a double class with Gryffindor. Now, of course... Tom wondered a bit morbidly if Hagrid would make him and Ginny work together too.

He didn't think Hagrid liked him. Harry insisted the gamekeeper would get over it given a little time, but Tom couldn't quite see why. Apparently he -- the other him -- hadn't even quite _been_ Voldemort yet when he got Hagrid expelled.

Neither House was especially happy about working together. Magical monsters were quite enough of a challenge without being subjected to their least-favorite other students, seemed to be the general opinion. 

The students were led, to a large enclosure and filed carefully in, one by one, under close supervision. Hagrid cautioned them to "Watch where yeh walk," with a chuckle, but the enclosure seemed to be empty. The walls, however, were gaudily painted with all four House colors.

"Anybody know any invisible monsters?" someone muttered. 

"Not invisible," Hagrid's booming voice announced. "They're chameleons. Yer assignment is to catch and control one each. There're leashes hung on the walls -- one apiece, no fightin'." 

Ginny edged a little bit farther away from Tom Riddle -- Harry insisted he was all right, but she just couldn't look at him or hear his name without thinking about.... She shook her head and stared hard at the walls and grass as everyone cautiously started edging toward the leashes. She should probably get one of those, yes. 

She stepped carefully over to a wall, studying the ground before she put her feet down for any sort of difference in texture, and put her feet down slowly in case she _didn't_ see something. At one point she did encounter resistance, but it scurried away before she could reach for it.

"Go on, then, get a move on! These 'un's aren't poisonous! Yeh can just pick 'em up, but watch out for the tails, they come off."

Ginny sighed and picked up a leash -- bright red, the same color as her hair -- and coiled some of the extra length around her arm to keep from tripping over it. At that point one of her classmates _did_ trip, and fell flat on his face. She thought she saw a hint of movement away from his feet, and squinted at it. 

Too far off, probably. Somewhere closer.... Where was the one she'd almost stepped on? 

"And try not to look like an insect. Chameleons eat insects, yeh know. Tongues like frogs."

Ginny decided she wasn't too worried about this. She didn't know how to look like an insect if she _tried._ Besides, if by some chance she did, at least being hit by a chameleon's tongue would indicate that there was one in the vicinity. Presumably attached to the tongue. 

Somebody else stepped on one and wound up with a tail. Assorted other people thought they glimpsed something and snatched at it; a Gryffindor and a Slytherin got in a fight over a chameleon that was probably long gone... in short, pandemonium ensued. 

Ginny heard something hiss, blinked over in that general direction, and discovered that it was -- unsurprisingly -- Tom. She looked away quickly and then felt something step on her foot. 

When she reached for it, she discovered that Hagrid's claim that they could "just pick them up" was probably based on _his_ size, not theirs. She got what felt like a leg -- luckily -- that her hand would barely close around. She winced as it jerked, trying to get away, and hoped she hadn't made it sprain something. "Hold still, it's okay...."

"They like interestin' patterns, for the challenge. Any of yeh got a plaid handkerchief?"

Interesting patterns... maybe it would like the red leash on her arm? Well, maybe.... She saw someone else struggling with something; it was one of the vainer students, who was not wearing plain black work robes but a gaudy rainbow... thing. 

With some difficulty, she got the collar of the leash in her teeth and her other hand on the chameleon's leg, then shifted one arm around its middle and tried to find the neck. 

"Oh, well done, Ginny! All of yeh look at Ginny, now, she's got one. Just put the leash around his neck there, then. You there, Nigel, don't fight 'em like that, they'll run off and hide. Gentle's the word."

Tom was still hissing. The chameleon tried to run away from him, which Ginny thought privately was rather sensible of it. He sounded like a snake.

Of course he sounded like a snake.

"Hold STILL," she grunted around the leash, just as she was yanked out of her crouch and fell on top of the chameleon. She felt something poke her nose and breath on her lip; oh good, that must be its snout. She kept talking, trying to keep its interest so she could free her arm and get hold of the collar again. "I'm not trying to hurt you...."

She yelped as somebody ran by and stepped on her leg, but resisted the impulse to turn and glare at them. 

"Why run after something you can't see?" she muttered. Her chameleon licked her nose with a tongue that stayed pink just long enough for her to see it. "Um, okay." 

"What yeh want to do when yeh know where one is, is keep the background changing on it so it can't keep up. Wave yer sleeve around by it so it tries to blend in."

Sarah, one of the Muggle-borns, was humming. Ginny decided to concentrate on that instead of the staccato hissing from the opposite direction. _The other thing you want to do when you know where one is is to hold **on** to it._ "Stop squirming. It's not a real snake," she muttered. "Just hold still... where's your nose again?" 

She'd finally gotten her left arm free and was hugging the chameleon firmly if a bit precariously, her right hand locked behind its elbow. Pick it _up_? The creature was as big around as she was! She found its face with her hand, though, and managed to slide the collar over it. The collar contracted a little as she got it into place; when she felt it, Ginny found that it had adjusted securely, with just enough slack for easy breathing.

"Well done, Ginny! Bring him on over here, then, and we'll put him to bed. All this excitement gets 'em sleepy."

Ginny grabbed the leash before she let go with her other arm, then stood up, panting, and wiggled the leash across the chameleon's back. It flickered red. 

"All right," she called, and started to head for Hagrid's voice, tugging gently on the leash. All was going well until the lizard tried to bolt at another hiss.

She'd wrapped the leash around her wrist once, which meant that she didn't lose her chameleon. It also meant she was jerked off her feet. Again.

"Get _back_ here." She got to her feet again and glared furiously at the Slytherin, then headed for Hagrid again, more carefully this time. 

She made it this time, and handed Hagrid the leash with some relief, then crouched down to where the chameleon could nose her face again. "Hagrid, I don't think anybody here but you _could_ pick one of these up. Not easily, anyhow."

Hagrid was shaking his head, squinting out into the enclosure as Ginny came up. "That Tom Riddle, he's scarin' 'em away, he is. Have 'em attacking everybody in a minute -- Ginny, would yeh do me a favor and straighten the little mucker out? Get 'im to stop that hissing, anyway. You're real good with these. Lovely little -- eh? Well, I suppose you're right. They grow up fast, they do."

Ginny had turned away before Hagrid could see her go dead white. With her collection of older brothers, she was used to assorted weird animals and to wrestling with people larger than she was; she liked most animals and had learned to deal with those she didn't calmly, if only because otherwise the twins would pester her with them endlessly given the hint.

As a result, she was expecting Care of Magical Creatures to be one of her best classes. Since she was much less flamboyant than most of her brothers at school -- at home was a different matter -- and was still humiliatingly unnerved by having to work with Tom Riddle in Potions, Hagrid was one of the few people who thought she was reasonably brave. She didn't really want to spoil it. So he was probably about the only teacher for whom she'd voluntarily walk up to Tom.

Tom, for his part, was utterly miserable. Everyone else at least seemed to have some idea how to start, and he wasn't getting anywhere. One or two flickers of movement, but nothing he could pinpoint except the time one of them had knocked him over. Pick one _up_?! Hagrid was mad. Actually, he reflected dismally, Hagrid was just large.

He'd tried Parseltongue, which unsurprisingly turned out not to work on lizards, and degenerated into snake-curses in short order. One chameleon bumped into him and promptly (as far as he could tell) arrowed away into the arms of a triumphant Gryffindor. 

"Tom," Ginny said a bit faintly, and watched him jump as if startled out of his wits. She gulped and went on quietly. "Snakes eat chameleons, you know."

"Well, nobody _told_ me that. I swear, Hagrid expects us to know everything _he_ does about these things...."

"He's been calling out tips the whole time," Ginny pointed out. She tried to wipe her palms on her robes unobtrusively. 

Tom eyed his leash with disgust. "I tried waving my handkerchief. One of them ate it, I think."

Ginny surprised herself by almost laughing, and choked on it instead. "Well, why didn't you grab it?" 

"I tripped over _this_." Tom held the leash up sheepishly. "Somebody laughed. I don't think I'm cut out for this class."

"Try wrapping the loose end around your arm," Ginny said automatically, then blinked. Had she just given him advice? ...She had. He really _did_ look uncertain -- and embarrassed. And, when he turned to scan the enclosure rather hopelessly for more chameleons, almost as nervous as she felt about him. "...Are you all right?"

Tom stared out at the chaotic tangle of students and lizard-shaped pieces of background, unseeing. "I wish I knew if that were good or not. That I'm bad at this, I mean. I mean, was _he_ good at all his classes, in which case I think I almost want to fail at something. Or if he was bad at Magical Creatures, and I am too... what does that mean?" He blinked, then looked back at Ginny. "Um. What? Sorry. Wrap it around what?"

Ginny blinked back at him. "Wrap the leash around your arm, but keep the collar free. To keep from tripping." She hesitated. "He" couldn't be anybody but... You-Know-Who, and it startled her to realize Tom was worrying about... that. "And... I don't know. Just don't hiss at them; you're scaring them all off." 

Tom wrapped the leash around his arm half-heartedly. "Like this? And no hissing, right. Thanks." He attempted a grateful smile. "How do you tell where one is? I mean, you latched on to yours right away; I was really amazed."

"...Mine ran away from you and stepped on my foot, actually." Ginny blushed almost the color of her hair for no apparent reason. "Otherwise... look for differences in texture; they can't _quite_ get that the same most of the time. Scales don't look perfectly like grass no matter how good the pattern is; it's very close though. And look for motion." She closed her mouth abruptly, feeling that she was babbling. 

"Texture and motion. Right." Tom blushed too, and looked away. "I'm not... used to this. People helping me, I mean. Just... thanks. And I'm... I don't know. Maybe I could... try to get a different partner in Potions, or something? In return. I don't know if I can -- maybe if I ask someone besides Snape -- you're nicer away from boiling cauldrons. And all I've really got that people seem to want is... to go away, I guess."

Ginny bit her lip and stared at the grass. Nicer? She hadn't -- she didn't -- Away? She felt guilty suddenly. "I didn't mean to spill half-done Firestarter on you," she said quietly.

"Well, I know that. I didn't mean... sorry. I asked Harry about it, and he said... well, never mind. I suppose you don't like thinking about it any more than I do. Four years." Tom shuddered. "I wish I knew when he... changed."

The first thing that came to mind was "I didn't know it bothered you that much." Ginny decided a moment afterwards that she had to learn to think before she spoke instead of at the same time. 

Tom smiled crookedly. "Nobody lets me forget about it. All I want is to be me -- unless being me means being him, in which case I want to be somebody else -- but maybe wanting to be someone else is how he started, I don't know. Sometimes I want to apologize, but that just seems so stupid, as if the things he did could be apologized for, or as if I could apologize for them when I didn't do them. And even then, I can't apologize for my face."

Ginny winced. It wasn't even the face -- well, a little -- for her, it was more the name. She'd never told anyone that she had eventually remembered everything Harry and Tom had said to each other, arguing over her -- or maybe she had dreamed it. 

But this Tom _hadn't_ done that; he was younger than the memory in the diary.... That one had been appealing and charming and soothing and... the one thing he'd never, ever been was vulnerable. Or -- she glanced ruefully at the leash -- incompetent. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't think." She'd been too scared to think. _So much for Gryffindor courage._

Tom blinked. "_You_ didn't do anything. Well, beyond spilling things, and being skittish, and I can certainly understand that. _I_ want to hide from me sometimes. But you've been a lot nicer than most of your House. I mean, you came over to help me with these chameleons, and everything."

"Hagrid told me to." Oh, that was going to make him feel better. Hadn't she just decided to think before she spoke? And when had she stopped (mostly) being scared of Tom and started worrying about upsetting him? 

Tom shrugged. "He could've found somebody else. Would've, probably, if he'd stopped to think. Not like Snape. But you still came over."

"Well... yes." This time she managed _not_ to say it was because she didn't want Hagrid to think she was a coward. "I haven't been much help though." 

Tom grinned. "We've been standing around talking instead of looking for lizards. I haven't exactly had the chance to try out your lessons." Suddenly he saw a blur in the grass off to his left, and dove for it -- but after a few seconds' thrashing, all he had to show for it was a long green tail, which he waved at Ginny. "It's a start, yes?"

Ginny tried desperately not to laugh. "Well, it's part of one." When she thought about it, Tom had been nicer than most of _his_ house, too. He'd hardly even complained about her horrible performance in Potions all the time; all the nasty comments had been from other people... especially Snape. 

She hesitated again, then plunged forward, conversationally speaking. "Look -- Tom -- I don't know if it'd make a difference if you did try to switch, the way Snape works, but if we're still partners in Potions I don't think I'll be as bad about it anymore...." 

Tom grinned again, the first really unselfconscious grin she'd seen from him. "I think I'd like that. And at least when you spill stuff on me it's an accident -- anybody else Snape put me with would probably do it on purpose, and we've got that wart cure next week. Do you suppose Hagrid'll give me half marks for the tail, or should I keep trying for the rest of it?"

"Keep trying. There's supposed to be one for everybody," she advised him, looking around again. The population of the enclosure seemed to have decreased; apparently, since the class was at the end of the school day, most people who caught their chameleon left as soon as it was "put to bed." "Tom... turn around _slowly_. There's a patch on the grass a little behind you that looks funny. No, to your right." 

Tom inched around, trying not to make any sudden movements. There it was -- a sort of oblong discontinuity on the ground. "Jumping didn't work last time," he whispered, abruptly nervous again. "Maybe walking up slowly? What do you think?"

"Try to relax." Ginny moved slowly up beside him without quite realizing it. "If you're nervous, it makes them nervous. And you're not quite close enough to pounce on it effectively."

Not being nervous by an act of will was... not easy.

"Relax. Sure." Tom took a deep breath and, surprisingly, managed to banish some of the tension in his muscles. "What's the lizard equivalent of sugar cubes? Not that it matters, I guess. Now what?"

"That's better.... Get the collar where you can get hold of it pretty easily, but you probably want both hands at first. Then move toward the chameleon slowly. And crouch, don't kneel."

Tom sidled up to the blurry patch, trying to think calm thoughts about things lizards liked, in case Hagrid hadn't told them that chameleons could read minds. He put out a cautious hand, biting his lip -- and touched dry, pebbled scales. The chameleon twitched -- Tom pulled his hand back reflexively, but when he reached out again it was still there. It took surprisingly little effort to loop the collar around the thick neck.

He turned back to Ginny, beaming. "I did it! We did it, I mean."

"You've got the leash," she pointed out with a grin. She'd never expected his smile to be that infectious. "You'd better take it over to Hagrid now." Most of the class had finished; most of the few left seemed to be the cut-ups who still insisted on diving at every flicker.

"Okay. Thanks... a lot, Ginny. I'll see you in Potions, then, I guess?"

She nodded, then squeaked as a passing student nearly tackled her and his chameleon did. "I was going to say," she said with as much dignity as possible, sitting up and eyeing her receding classmate irritably, "that there might still be a chance to pass it." For Tom, at least. With Snape, he probably had a better chance.

"I hope so. It's only been a little over a month; we should be able to get enough practice by the end of the year. And maybe... study extra, on the side, to catch up? There are probably books and things in the library."

"I should hope there are books in the library," Ginny quipped. She pushed her hair out of her face and started to get up, then paused, startled, when Tom released one of them from its deathgrip on the leash and offered it tentatively to her. "...Thanks." No. He wasn't like the diary. His hand was cold though. "That sounds good. Though he might make us stop working together if it doesn't seem like we mind." She tilted her head. "How well do you act?"

"Don't know, never tried.... If we're going to pretend we can't stand each other, though," _and when did we start having to pretend that,_ he wondered, "I want a chance to spill stuff on you occasionally too." He grinned again. That seemed to be happening more often. "Seems only fair." A thought struck him. "You don't suppose we could occasionally spill things on Snape, do you? I don't think I've ever met anybody more deserving of purple and green spots."

A giggle escaped Ginny. "I don't know, he'd have to get close enough." She paused. She'd thought most Slytherins liked him... well, most Slytherins didn't have him force them to work with a partner who spilled things all the time, either. They began walking in Hagrid's direction again. "What'd he ever do to you though? Besides make you work with me, or was that enough?"

"No, no, it's -- well, he glares at me like he's expecting, I don't know what, only it's not like what the other teachers seem to be expecting. And anyway, he treats everybody like dirt unless they toady up to him. I thought _I_ was the one being used as the punishment, honestly." Tom frowned. "I don't like being used."

"He probably figured... we'd make each other uncomfortable." A severe understatement, in her own case. "Ron says he likes Draco Malfoy." The second sentence, she noticed, had absolutely nothing to do with the first. "And I wasn't the one getting... scalded, and things." Just scared half to death.

"Mmh. Malfoy. That's enough right there -- believe me, and I say this as someone who has to live with the little -- well, anybody who likes Malfoy deserves the occasional potion mishap. Besides, anybody could see you wouldn't have spilled half that much if you hadn't, well, been working with me. I think _Snape_ saw it, for one."

Ginny sighed and ducked her head. "Probably. And unlike most of the class he seemed to know _why_. I really shouldn't -- I knew you hadn't yet --" Oh, _yet_ was a bad way to put it.... "I couldn't seem to help it." She wondered whether she could apologize without making things worse, and peeked up at him cautiously.

"Oh, I don't blame you at all, really. Or I did, but then I talked to Harry, and now I don't. I've been meaning to... try and explain, or something, for days, but you never stood still long enough." Tom tugged on the leash. "No wonder you're so good with these. Sorry. Um. Joke? I'm not very good with jokes, or at least people don't usually laugh. Edge away nervously, mostly."

Ginny looked up from staring as fixedly at her toes as was possible while walking, a bit startled, and smiled tentatively. "I wasn't going anywhere. Well, except -- " she waved her hand generally in the direction they were headed. "And I'm still sorry. I don't know what you'd have had to explain anyway." 

_What did he and Harry talk about?_ a voice gibbered in her mind, mortally embarrassed again about that crush.... She squashed it and took a deep breath. "And I didn't mean 'yet.'" 

"I know you didn't. Pronouns and verb tenses get a little confusing sometimes. Maybe we could just... take all the apologies as having been said, or something? And start over, maybe."

"That sounds... good. Thanks. -- Look out for Mark, there!" as one of the remaining Gryffindors stumbled over the leash and the chameleon's head. Tom barely kept hold. Ginny frowned at Mark. "I know you can't see the chameleon," she told him, "but the collar really should be a hint."

"I don't know what they're all running for. The chameleons don't get any more visible when you've got a concussion from tripping and hitting your head, do they? Maybe I should've tried that first, d'you think?"

"Doesn't look like it's worked for them, does it?" Ginny helpfully hauled Mark to his feet and set off again, shaking her head a little "They're always like that. Showoffs." 

"Gryffindor bravery by any other name."

Ginny bristled. "I've heard some things about the third-year Slytherins...."

"Yeah, well. Most of them want to be Malfoy, or Marcus Flint. But we're not all bad. It's sort of like... what if everybody thought all Gryffindors were like your brothers Fred and George?"

"I meant toward the _animals_. And I like Fred and George." She took two more steps before she added, "Most of the time."

"Mm. It's all the same thing -- well, you don't see as much of it, I guess. Malfoy tries to be better than everybody by treating everybody like they're less than he is -- so the people that want to be like him, that he picks on, pick on other people, and eventually you run out of people, so they pick on animals too. I think it's stupid -- Slytherins are supposed to be clever and individualistic, not a pack of sheep. And you have to admit, if you don't know Fred and George, it's hard to see their good qualities."

"Shh. You'll get us carnivorous sheep next or something," Ginny murmured with a glance in Hagrid's direction. "And... I don't know. Percy and Ron and I are probably their favorite practice targets, but... I've known them all my life, you know. It's hard to imagine being somebody who doesn't."

"I suppose. Some of us think they'd be better Slytherins than some of the people who actually are, you know." Tom grinned at her expression. "We used to be the house for pranks."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "You did?"

"To hear some of them -- the older students my first year, I mean -- talk about what happened when their parents were here, anyway. It's only because of -- it's only lately, I mean, that we've gotten the reputation we have."

"I got the idea there were stories even before that, but...." She shrugged. "Speaking of pranks, I think --" She broke off abruptly, even though she'd been quiet, as they reached Hagrid. 

Tom looked up at the giant teacher, suddenly nervous again. "Um. I caught one, sir. Thank you for asking Ginny to help me; I couldn't have done it without her."

"I just asked her ter get yeh ter stop scarin' them all. The rest of it was her idea," Hagrid replied bluntly, but amicably enough, scooping the chameleon up leash and all. It flickered before blending against his shirt. He eyed Ginny. "Wondered if I should've, for a minute, but it looks like it worked out all right." 

"Yes." Tom shot a cautious smile Ginny's way. "Well. I'd better run if I'm going to make it to Herbology -- somebody in the class before us scared a water plant into splashing around and soaking all the cacti, so we couldn't have class at the normal time. See you later, Ginny?"

"Meet you afterward to study Potions?" 

"Okay. I'll bring some of the books Snape has for us in the dorm; they're different from the regular ones."

"Can't believe you needed that much help to catch a little lizard, Riddle," someone called. 

"A Muggle-lover klutz, too, Mudblood." _That_ had definitely been someone from Tom's own house, too. He'd ignored the first one, but.... 

"Why am I not surprised?" Ginny murmured, glaring past him. Tom wasn't quite sure whether she was unsurprised about Snape's library or the jeering.

Tom glared. "If you'd pay more attention to the chameleons than you do your own bloodline, Rensington, you'd have caught three by now. Best get those robes to the laundry before the grass stains set." Under his breath, he added, "you little toad. See how you like a newt in _your_ bed one of these nights."

He heard Ginny whisper something and looked back quickly to see her hand on her wand. She shrugged innocently as Rensington moved out of earshot. "I set the stains. At least they're still the right color. I thought about turning them pink." Out of earshot was not strictly the right term. Rensington _could_ have still heard her if Hagrid hadn't started bellowing at him for language.

Tom laughed. "That I would've liked to see. I'll see you after class."

He noticed in Herbology that Rensington's robes were now pink-splotched. His face looked rather similar.

*****


	3. 3 of 4

**Trouble Brewing  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 3/4**

Partway through the make-up Herbology session, however, Tom located the niggling thought that had been trying to sneak back up on him ever since he was distracted from it a few seconds after he started talking to Ginny Weasley. 

_What did I say to her?!_ He couldn't quite remember -- the conversation had been fine, if a little embarrassing, up to the point when she'd told him to wrap the leash around his arm. Then... she'd asked something, he wasn't even sure what, but in response to the tone or -- or -- he didn't even know what, he'd started _babbling_.

That was the only word for it. He'd spilled a rapid-fire summary of his confusion and fears of becoming Voldemort and --

What did they talk about in the Gryffindor common room anyway? Was Ginny a gossip when she wasn't tongue-tied scared? He hadn't even been _thinking_ about that the rest of the class -- too busy with the blasted invisible lizards -- and she'd been... nice. He'd even told Harry once that he thought she seemed like a nice person other than the Potions spills.

But he couldn't believe he'd said all that. He might have told Harry deliberately -- Harry had helped him get away from Voldemort in the first place, after all -- but not... not anybody else. Except he had.

And she'd started being nice awfully _suddenly_. He didn't _want_ to suspect her -- something inside him was crying out for another friend, maybe one he actually _saw_ reliably more often than across the Great Hall or the Quidditch field -- but how could he _not_? She'd hated him, or at least his other self... not without reason, either.... And why hadn't he thought about any of this before they started conspiring about Potions class?

He was supposed to meet her after classes were done for the day. In the library, but with some of Snape's extra books for the Slytherins. Right now he didn't even want to see her again in Potions. Much less Care of Magical Creatures, where he really _was_ horrible. 

_But she helped. Most people don't do that._

_But why?_

Tom was still working steadily away and avoiding gently-waving, razor-edged leaves. Even generally vicious plants were easier to deal with than Hagrid's... things. 

Hagrid seemed to be fond of Ginny, and vice versa. Maybe it was all some --

He couldn't go seeing conspiracies against him everywhere! Maybe if he could just stay away from her as much as possible she'd forget... or at least not have the chance to find out anything _else_... but maybe if he went she'd tease him only in person, or....

_"I'll see you after class."_ He'd felt _good_ then; what was the matter with him, and was it then or now? But... an uncomfortable thought penetrated the feeling that was almost deciding he'd just not go to the library at all, so he wouldn't have to see her except in class. He'd said he'd be there. It hadn't been quite a promise, or he hadn't said it was, but... he'd said it. 

And he was pretty sure breaking his word wasn't a good way to start _anything_ off. If nothing else... he couldn't see Voldemort balking at it. So he should. 

Once he was done for the day, Tom took the time to get the mud out from under his fingernails, then slipped a couple of Snape's books off the shelf in the Slytherin common room and went to the library with a distinct feeling of dread.

"I think," Ginny announced in a whisper as soon as he was close enough to hear her, "we'd better figure out what we can spill without actually ruining the assignments, first. I've got an extra book of Hermione's on potions theory. And we'll probably have to ask Snape something to get him to come close enough."

"Uh. Right. We do want to actually _do_ the assignment, just spill it on him _too._ If that makes sense." _Maybe if I act like nothing's wrong nothing will be. Or I could ask her, but 'Have you been giggling about me in your house common room' is kind of blunt._

"Exactly. Or on each other, you did say it'd only be fair if you got to spill things on me too." She waved the book she'd been reading at the other half of the reading-couch. Other third of it, actually. There were books on half of the part she wasn't occupying. "We just have to have everything actually _work_ still."

Tom realized he hadn't sat down yet, and did so, smiling weakly. "I brought a couple of Snape's books, but nowhere near _this_ many."

"Well, I hunted through the shelves in here -- and I talked to Hermione." Ginny laughed softly. "Ask her about books and... well, you see the result." 

"I've... heard that. Um. Here's my contribution, then. I tried to get the harmless-looking ones, but Snape tends to kind of expect advanced work from Slytherins. What did you want to start with?"

"Probably the syllabus." Ginny consulted it. "What's -- oh, you mentioned that already. Warts." She looked back up and blinked. "Harmless-looking?" 

"Not two feet tall and bound in black leather of uncertain origin. That's why I didn't end up bringing very many."

"...That was probably a good idea. And a lot easier to carry." Ginny gave him a quick smile and wondered why she was having to remind herself all over again that he _wasn't_ the one from the diary, that this was different.... _If you're nervous it makes them nervous._ The reminder popped into her head, and she frowned at it for a moment before realizing Tom looked about as tense as when he'd been looking for chameleons in the first place. It certainly seemed an unlikely thing to pretend. Although if real it did cast some doubt on the success of their Potions scheme. More to the point, it was just plain worrying. And uncomfortable. "...Tom?" she asked a bit uncertainly. "Are you all right?"

Oh. _That_ was what she'd asked before.

"Uh." _Uh, indeed._ "Well, I... um. I don't usually, uh." _Uh doesn't seem to be getting the job done._ Tom took a breath. "I-didn't-mean-to-babble-on-like-that-earlier-and-you-haven't-told-anyone-what-I-said-have-you?" He blinked. Being nervous about telling somebody things, then going and telling them more things, didn't seem to make sense. Possibly 'Of course I'm all right, let's start working on warts' would have worked better. Too late now.

Ginny blinked at him. Tom wondered if this was ominous. 

In fact, Ginny was just trying to deal with another concept -- or preconception -- turning itself inside-out. She'd been startled when he "babbled" at her, but it had made her feel... a little more secure about talking to him. 

This was the first time it had occurred to her that _he_ might be upset about telling secrets to somebody who just might, as far as he knew, turn on him with them. "Of course I haven't," she said after what seemed like more of a delay than it probably was. "And it's all right..." _'I didn't mind' probably won't help._ She bit her lip and didn't look at him as she added in a hurried and barely audible whisper, "The one thing the one in the diary never did was tell _me_ anything."

Tom sat back. Was she lying? Well, not about that last part, that was too -- obviously painful. Did that mean the first bit was true too? They certainly did seem to get stuck on painful honesty around each other, or at least _he_ did. He took a deep breath, let it out. "Well... um, thanks, then. You're the only person other than Harry I've ever told any of... that, and I just, well, I guess I wondered if you were trying to get me to say stuff you could, I don't know, throw back at me later. I get a lot of that. I don't much like wondering if I'm being used, I think I said. Um. But you'd know about that, I guess."

Brilliant red came and went behind the freckles, and Ginny shook her head violently. "_No_. I mean, yes, I know about... that... but that's why I --" That hurt, even if it wasn't quite an accusation and he didn't really have much reason to think otherwise. "I wasn't." She made herself meet his eyes again. "And I won't. Ever. I might -- remind you if I think you need it -- but not to be mean." 

"Oh. Well." That sounded... oddly like friendship, by most of the definitions he'd heard. And it seemed to need a return. "I wouldn't either." Well, except that strange diary had probably said the same thing. "And... I think I'd feel, less nervous, next time, about saying something. Since I know you're not going to be mean. I mean, if there's a next time, and unless it's a bother." He paused for a moment. "We don't seem to do a lot of classwork when we try to do classwork, do we?"

That got a laugh just loud enough to be shushed sternly from the front desk. "We get there eventually, don't we?" Ginny offered him a half-page of notes, mostly fragmentary questions as to possible ingredients to spill and whether they'd have to adjust the other proportions accordingly. It looked very inconclusive. "And," she added softly, "it isn't a bother. And I don't want to use you." She knew how that felt _far_ too well. Especially from somebody who'd _acted_ nice before. 

Tom smiled, not trusting himself to speak, and glanced down at the notes. "If we leave out that much ground mandrake the potion'll probably _cause_ warts."

"Ack. Cross that off then." 

Tom dutifully drew a line through the ground mandrake, and put his chin on his hand, considering. This was actually quite an interesting puzzle -- what could they spill that looked innocent, but didn't actually mess up the potion -- and ideally did something embarrassing to Snape beyond getting him wet?

"You know, if I were potions master, this would actually make an interesting homework assignment. Sabotage your potions without actually getting them wrong. Certainly makes you pay more attention to the recipe."

Ginny grinned. "New ambition? Maybe for the one to spill on Snape we should pick a more complicated one so we'd have an excuse to call him over...." He stalked around inspecting enough, though, that that might not be necessary after all.

"Hmm. And then if we could show him we'd already _done_ the wart cure, and had flipped to the back of the book instead of causing trouble, he might not be so mad. Snape likes ambition."

"Particularly if we'd actually gotten the more advanced potion right too."

"...What's one we can get right and still want to spill on him?"

Tom took out one of the books he'd gotten from the Slytherin common room, and flipped to the index as Ginny leaned over the books between them to peer at it. "Ugh." He eyed some of the listings in wary disgust. "Okay, not this book, I guess I wasn't altogether right about skipping the dangerous ones --"

"WHAT are you doing?!" Ron's voice, followed instantly by a furious "SHHHHHHHH!" from Madam Pince, caused Ginny to lose her balance and land uncomfortably on the heap of books. Tom flinched and hid the book behind his back.

"_Ow_. Studying!" Ginny pushed herself back up and rubbed her elbow. 

"Um. Professor Snape keeps putting us together in Potions, so we thought we'd make the best of it."

"What're you hiding there, Riddle?" Ron eyed the younger boy with deep suspicion. Snape, huh? He wasn't surprised, but if that greasy excuse for a professor got Ginny hurt.... 

"Hiding? Oh. Just a book. Ginny asked Hermione for some potion references." There. All true, but helpfully vague.

"Then why are you hiding it?" Ron made a grab for the book in question. 

"Hey!" Tom tried not to shout. "Because I'm not used to people sneaking up on me and yelling."

"Drop it, Ron," Ginny said irritably. "Snape's got a private Potions library for Slytherin, as if that should surprise anyone, and Tom brought a few books from it. He'd just said we shouldn't use that one after all." 

"It's for seventh-years, and I couldn't tell by the cover."

Ginny shot Tom an odd look -- "It's for seventh-years" didn't seem to explain "wasn't altogether right about skipping the dangerous ones." 

"Anyway, _Most Potente Potions_ is really a vague name. You'd think Snape would have them labeled clearer."

Ron's expression changed abruptly from accusing to something that looked rather like that of someone who had, perhaps, accidentally swallowed a live and acid-resistant tadpole. 

"Something wrong, Ron?" Ginny asked in innocently curious tones. 

"...No. I've, uh, heard things about that one though." Strictly true. Hermione had explained everything out loud, apparently not trusting his or Harry's reading skills.

Ginny blinked and, eyes sparkling, snatched hold of her brother's sleeve as he started to edge away. "_Really?_" she whispered brightly.

Tom grinned a bit; Ginny's mood was infectious, and Ron's obvious discomfiture even more interesting. "I don't suppose you'd like to stay and give us the benefit of your opinion? You've had more experience with Potions than we have; maybe you'd know some good ones we could try."

Discomfiture and embarrassment fought with curiosity and possibly suspicion, plus the prospect of dragging the couch over backwards if Ginny didn't let go, and lost spectacularly. "What are you trying to do, then?"

"Well... we tend to spill most of what we mix up, see." Ginny did, anyway. And hopefully not anymore, at least by accident. "So we thought, if we actually got the potion right _first, then_ accidentally spilled it -- on Snape, say -- we could start to... improve things. And then Ginny thought, we shouldn't spill the one we were assigned, we should do a more interesting one and spill that. Anyway, the assignment is wart cure, and that's no fun to surprise people with."

Ron decided that he was missing something in the way of logic here. For one thing, he _had_ been aware that Ginny was doing poorly in Potions, and the revelation that Snape made her work with Tom Riddle _had_ seemed to explain this, except that now she didn't seem particularly upset about sitting on a sofa with him. 

"I don't see," he said slowly, "how you think you're going to improve the situation if you spill it on Snape, no matter _how_ well you did it in the first place."

"That was what Ginny's idea was for. If we could show him we'd completed the assignment, then tried for a more advanced potion, then only messed up the advanced one... you see? We'd simply be overly ambitious."

"And spilled something on Snape. Embarrassing, I hope, but if it was he'd not be likely to forgive you for it. _Well, maybe you_." He eyed Tom darkly.

"I suppose." Tom glanced uncertainly over to Ginny. "Maybe we should go back to spilling it on you."

"WHAT?" Ron roared. 

Tom shrank back in his seat. Oops.

Ginny opened her mouth, then squeaked instead of speaking as Madam Pince swooped down on them. "_Out_. All of you. Now!" 

"We're going. I apologize," Ginny said quickly, then scooped up Hermione's book and her own notebooks. "Come on. We'll talk somewhere else."

Tom snagged Snape's books off the table and whispered to Ginny as they scurried out. "You could've said something sooner, you know. He's _your_ brother."

"Sorry," she whispered back. "I'll explain. Come on." She had the feeling Ron was on the verge of grabbing Tom to make sure he couldn't slip off before the explanation.

Tom followed along behind Ginny. He could _feel_ Ron's glare between his shoulder-blades. _Well,_ he thought, _at least I guess this means Harry isn't repeating what I've told him, either._

He was rather less than delighted to find himself in short order in the Gryffindor common room, even if it was mostly unpopulated. Ginny looked over her shoulder to catch his uneasy look, then dropped back to walk beside him. "Calm down. We don't bite," she said under her breath. 

"Ron looks like he wants to," Tom replied, equally softly.

"He won't. He just picked an inconvenient time to be protective." They descended on a small knot of chairs.

"This had better be a _good_ explanation," Ron growled.

Tom looked over to Ginny. _Well, **I've** done all the explaining I care to,_ he thought.

Ginny, it appeared, had just gotten started. "Well, before you decided to get us kicked out of the library, we'd decided that we were going to study Potions together, since Snape keeps having us work together anyway. But since he'd probably stop if he thought we didn't mind, we were going to keep spilling things sometimes and acting like we didn't like each other, but still get the potions right. But we'd _like_ to spill on Snape too."

"It sounded like _he_ wanted to spill things on _you_!" 

"I had a second nose all of last Wednesday. We were only going to spill harmless stuff anyway."

Ginny blushed again. "I've been an awful klutz most of the year," she added. "I was... nervous." Or terrified. Though she _had_ known it wasn't the same, just....  
  
Ron shook his head violently. "Since when are _you_ trying to find excuses to _keep_ working with _Tom Riddle_?" he asked pointedly.

Tom felt he should be indignant about this -- and he sort of was -- but he was also curious to see what Ginny would answer.

Ginny's chin snapped up. "Since Care of Magical Creatures today. We caught a chameleon together." Sort of. She couldn't explain the more important part in detail without betraying confidences, and she'd said she wouldn't. "We talked. He's not the same one, Ron," she finished in a low voice.

Tom sat up a little straighter and attempted to look... not dark, or something.

The results were somewhat dubious. Ron gave him a look, then turned back to his sister and said as kindly as such words could be said, "You trusted the diary one too, Ginny." 

Tom glared. "I. Am. Not. Him," he said. "I wouldn't _do_ that to anybody. Ask Harry."

"The diary one," Ginny said precisely, "was always very smooth and calm and confident and soothing and I didn't know any better at the time, but even if he could pretend to be nice I don't believe You-Know-Who _would_ pretend to -- to be worried about catching chameleons, or tell me how _he_ felt, because he never did." She stopped to draw breath. "And that's right. Harry's been trying to reassure me for... weeks. He trusts Tom too. Or do you think he's as stupid as you think _I_ am if you don't think I learned anything?"

"What," Ron asked in frustration, "do chameleons have to do with trusting ANYBODY?"

"She helped me catch one. I'm horrible at Care of Magical Creatures so far," Tom admitted, waiting for some sort of mockery. 

Ron, instead, finally sat down himself and looked as if he were thinking of tearing his hair out. "I'd have thought," he said finally, "that you would like reptiles." 

"I have it on very good authority," Tom said, grinning at Ginny, "that snakes eat chameleons. And therefore they don't take kindly to being hissed at."

Ron, who had only come up with this because he suspected his sister would have throttled him had he said "I'm not surprised," was a bit surprised by the grin. More so when Ginny grinned back. "Only snakes, then?" he asked a bit inanely. 

Tom winced slightly. He'd sort of expected what Ron had initially said, and had been rather upset to discover that he seemed to be an utter disaster with the reptilian creatures. Not that they'd HAD any snakes so far, of course. He had the feeling they weren't likely to.

He shrugged uncomfortably. Even if Voldemort _had_ done well in Care of Magical Creatures, it wasn't pleasant to do so badly at something.

"I think he'll improve," Ginny announced. "It's the kind of class that takes some getting used to for most people."

"I know not to hiss at things, for starters."

"Probably helpful," Ron replied faintly. "Anything ever tell you it had never seen Brazil?" 

Tom blinked at Ron. "Um, I don't think so; we haven't had any snakes. The class _did_ start for us just today. I did get a very odd look from a wandering salamander once last -- er, first year."

"I don't think I want to know what you tried to say to it," Ron decided. Then, apparently without connection, "Ginny, the prefects are going to kill us."

Ginny blinked. "Probably. Oh well. Where did you _want_ to talk, the middle of the hall?"

"I wouldn't have minded that," Tom said, abruptly very aware of his surroundings. "Oh, no, I hope this doesn't get back to the other Slytherins, they'll never leave me alone about it."

Ron gave him a withering look, which then turned speculative. "Maybe we could sneak you out...." If Tom really didn't want the others to know, he wouldn't share the password... but he'd still have it. Ron shook his head again. What was he thinking? "No, that'd be worse." 

"No it wouldn't. It would work," Ginny contradicted promptly. 

"But he --" 

"Won't tell."

"Wasn't listening. D'you think I _want_ to come over here? Besides, I figured you'd just change it after."

Ron looked skeptical. Ginny rolled her eyes. "I don't care if they do or not. Come on, if you don't want to be here."

Tom popped out of his chair as if someone had put a pin on it, and followed Ginny.

Ron went looking for Harry, who eventually persuaded him to stop worrying about the whole thing, or at least to stop arguing. Ginny led Tom out of the Gryffindor areas with as much attention to concealment as if she HAD been a chameleon. Safely (relatively) out in less territorial locations, she folded her arms and eyed him. "I still think it was better than talking in the hall."

"Well... maybe. But what if people had been there? You and Harry are about the only Gryffindors who'll give me the time of day."

"We weren't there to talk to them." Ginny sighed. _And it was only Harry until this afternoon. Ouch._ No wonder Tom had wanted to get out. Although how much better Slytherin could be.... "Ron's calmed down a lot, though."

"If you say so. Must be nice, though, having family to stick up for you like that."

"Well... yes. Usually." Overwhelming as her family could be, she couldn't really imagine life without them, and was suddenly acutely aware of Tom's generally lonesome background. 

"You know... somehow, yet again, we've managed to avoid actually doing our classwork. D'you want to find an open classroom, or something?"

"Sure. Sorry about that...." What would Snape do if they just started arguing, instead of spilling things? Then again, the challenge was interesting....

Apparently Tom had taken a similar line of thought and then merged it with the earlier one. "Hm. What if, instead of trying to get Snape to come over, we have a big argument, start waving our hands around, and knock over the cauldron?"

"...He _might_ come over for that, too. Make sure it's towards him...?" 

"Sure. And that'd look a lot more accidental, I think."

"Probably." She looked at her note-sheet, which he was still holding. "And if you still want to spill something on me, doesn't he give out more slug-slime than is really necessary every time we use it?"

"Yes. Quite a lot more, actually. I've always wondered why. Maybe that could spark the argument."

"Very efficient. If we were more... subdued and careful after that, do you think we could get away with it?"

"Yeah. He'll probably yell at us and take away some house points, but if he feels we're suitably chastened afterward he'll probably leave us mostly alone. Um. You'll probably take the brunt of the house points."

Ginny hesitated over this for a moment, then thought about Fred and George, and grinned. "Tom... pouring most of an assignment on Professor Snape would make up for a _lot_ of points, to most Gryffindors. The rest of them would just be mad they didn't _see_ it."

Tom laughed. "I suppose so."

"So... the wart potion doesn't use slug-slime... ooh, the laughter one does, though! -- How bizarre."

"I don't think I've ever seen Snape laugh. I think we owe it to posterity, don't you?"

Ginny's eyes lit up. "And Colin ALWAYS carries that camera around...."

"He does, doesn't he. Heh. This'll definitely be worth catching it from the rest of the Slytherins after."

Ginny paused, looking rather as if she'd been doused in cold water. "Catching it how?"

"Hm? Oh. Malfoy, probably, and the rest of them that follow Snape around. Short-sheeting, hiding my wand, that sort of thing. Nothing too terrible."

"Are you sure?" Those didn't sound _too_ bad -- her brothers had done the same and worse -- but it _would_ probably be worse if it were really malicious. Even so, it seemed kind of... minimal for Draco Malfoy. She studied Tom as if expecting to find tales of some nastier sort of prank written on his eyes or nose.

Tom hesitated. _Well, honesty isn't **always** the best policy. And this will be too much fun to get cold feet now._ "Nothing I can't handle. Besides, think of the look on Snape's face."

Ginny wavered. She didn't think Tom was giving the right level for "that sort of thing"; on the other hand, if he said he could handle it, he probably could, and if it was worth it to him.... "If they do anything really bad I'll let some of our Magical Creatures assignments loose on them." 

"That's fair. Malfoy's about as bad as I am at that class."

"You did fine once you settled down, you know."

"Ah, but Malfoy never settles down."

"How do you know? Did you see some of the third-year classes, or was he doing detention afterwards?" She snorted. "Or did Harry tell you?"

"Just a general observation. Also I've been in the common room when he comes back to change. Hippogriff dung is apparently very hard to get out of robes."

Ginny stifled a giggle. "It's not that bad if you know how. As vain as he is, though...." 

Tom looked at her a bit nervously. "Is that what you have to do if you look like failing?" 

"What? Detentions until you get it right? It's possible, but I don't really know...." This wasn't a class any of her brothers had had serious difficulty with. "I'd heard Malfoy practically fouled up on purpose; that could get detention -- possibly in general you have to come back until you get it right, something like your Herbology class today."

"Herbology today wasn't _my_ fault. Ah... do you think we could, um, expand the study sessions, maybe?"

He must _really_ be worried about that class. And it, at least, wasn't her fault. "Sure." Ginny hesitated. "But... reading up on things can help a lot, even when the curriculum's a little... unpredictable like in this case, but practice would probably do more good in a lot of cases."

Tom looked a bit uncertain at the prospect. "Practice. Well. How would we do that?"

"Ask Hagrid to let us work with some of them outside of class. I don't think he'd mind, as long as we didn't upset them too much or anything."

"I think he thinks I upset them too much just by looking at them."

"He said to tell you to stop hissing at the chameleons, not to stop looking at them. We'll talk to him." She paused. "I wouldn't mind doing that now, if you don't -- I'd like to get outside for a little while."

"Well... all right. If you talk to him first."

"I'll talk. It might be more convincing if you're there too, though...."

Tom gulped. "I guess so."

Ginny wanted to tell Tom that Hagrid wouldn't hurt him, but experience with her brothers suggested that this would probably be taken as an insult. "Good. Don't worry." 

*****


	4. 4 of 4

**Trouble Brewing  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 4/4**

Fang hurled himself against the inside of Hagrid's door almost before Ginny could knock. Tom jumped.

"It's all right," Ginny explained, pounding more vigorously in case Hagrid hadn't heard her. "Fang might knock you down and lick you, but he's never bitten anybody, that I know of." 

"That's reassuring. What if he decides to start?"

"Stop worrying."

The door opened slowly, Hagrid hauling Fang back out of the gap. "Ginny! Good ter see yeh --" He blinked. "Tom Riddle. Haven't seen yeh around here much." 

Tom attempted a smile and wished Ginny would get _on_ with it.

"Well, come in, then. I'll make tea...." Hagrid trailed off. "Somehow I don't think yeh came here because yeh wanted ter pet Fang, Tom." Which was what Ginny was doing, having already entered.

Fang leapt out from under her hands as Tom came through the door. Tom was flat on his back before he knew what had happened, and quite convinced he was about to die until his face was thoroughly licked.

"Ackpth!"

"Actually, we wanted to ask about working with some of the Magical Creatures... creatures outside class," Ginny replied calmly. "Fang, get off him. Tom, don't open your mouth when he's doing that."

Tom staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth, as Fang backed off. He hadn't realized dogs were capable of producing that much slobber.

Fang flopped down on Ginny's feet and rolled over on his back, which forced her to back into the table but, Tom thought, demonstrated one of his intrinsic problems with the whole class. 

Hagrid looked from one student to the other, then fixed his gaze shrewdly on Ginny. "What yeh mean," he said, "though I'm not sure as yeh know it, is that yeh actually like the creatures, and Tom's hoping yeh can keep him out o' trouble like yeh did today."

"Uh, actually, sir, I was just thinking about doing extra studying in the library. Ginny was the one that suggested the, uh, hands-on experience."

Hagrid sighed windily. "If yer instincts are like that with all the creatures, I'm afraid yeh'll get hurt in extra sessions."

"I think a little more practice could help a lot," Ginny spoke up determinedly, then grinned. "You're right that I like them, though. Most of them, anyway."

She didn't think Tom would particularly appreciate her announcing to Hagrid that a lot of his trouble with the class -- aside from lacking certain information and instincts -- stemmed from a lack of confidence. Which was a rather odd conclusion regarding Tom Riddle, though by this point she was fairly certain of it, even after only the one Magical Creatures class.

On the other hand, it might have to come up. And it wasn't completely unlikely that Hagrid already knew this.

"I know yeh do." Hagrid patted her shoulder with a huge hand and turned his gaze inexorably on Tom. "Maybe we better give yeh time ter speak for yourself."

Tom gulped. "Well... I won't pretend today went well. But I think... I'm mostly doing it to myself. I did all the reading, but when we actually got out with the creatures, I froze. A-and I wasn't sure Ginny was right about scheduling extra practice, but she was right about the chameleons. And about other stuff. And I don't want to fail. So." He gulped again. "If Ginny says practice will help, then I trust her. And I'd like to give it a try, if you'll let me."

"If it's gettin' out there with the creatures that gets yeh, then the only thing that _will_ help is more practice," Hagrid said, less harshly than Tom would have expected. "I know yeh know the book part." This did not seem to carry much weight, however.

"It'll probably help that everybody isn't watching, too," Ginny remarked quietly.

Tom shot Ginny a grateful look. "I think it would. A lot of the other students... well, sometimes I think they want me to fail."

"Probably," Hagrid admitted readily enough. He sighed and looked between them again. "Yeh can do the extra sessions if yer both careful." He looked straight at Ginny. "Real careful."

"Thank you, sir. I will be."

Ginny nodded. Hagrid turned to study Tom for a long moment. "Yeh were older when I first met yeh. I liked yeh all right then, though." This was delivered with regret and puzzlement, but no apparent rancor. 

No matter how deep it cut.

Tom winced, but kept silent until he and Ginny had gotten out of earshot of Hagrid's cottage. Then he groaned. "Is there _no_ one he didn't do horrible things to?"

"...Probably?" Ginny sighed and patted Tom's arm lightly, not quite sure if he might object. "But _you_ didn't."

"But what if I will?"

"You get to choose, don't you?"

"I hope so. I don't want to hurt my... my friends."

Ginny smiled at him. "So don't."

Tom smiled back, weakly. _I hope it's that easy._

"I admit it's... not... exactly reassuring that the other one was such a charmer," Ginny added after a moment, in a low voice, "or that my judgment was that bad. But... based on the whole... thing there, I think if it's a mistake they'll... let you come back. And if you don't want to then it wouldn't be on purpose, would it."

"...That's true, it wouldn't." Tom contemplated the idea for a moment. "Odd how that makes me feel better. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ginny wasn't quite sure being a gullible little idiot was an idea that made _her_ feel much better, but she supposed it _was_ better than being deliberately evil. And perhaps Tom would be harder to trick.

She still could hardly believe there had been no one permanently hurt.

Tom's stomach growled suddenly. "Huh. You know, it's probably almost dinnertime. We should get back. And I'm not just saying that because I skimped on lunch."

Ginny squeaked slightly and glanced up at the darkening sky. "We should. Why'd you skimp on lunch?" As tempting as Hogwarts food usually was, it was rare for a student who wasn't ill or severely upset not to fill up.

"Wanted to get back to studying up for Magical Creatures, much good though that did me. Besides, I was right across the table from Crabbe and Goyle, and watching them eat would put _anyone_ off their appetite."

"Oh dear." Ginny contemplated Draco Malfoy's pair of shadows and made a face, then thought of something. "Tom... if you don't like the creatures, why are you _in_ the class? Apparently there was all sorts of fuss about getting a special session set up for second-years at all... of course, you'd have missed that...."

"I thought that was odd. Figured it was an advanced class, or something, and...." Tom waved his hand vaguely. "I figured if it was, I should take it. That's the sort of thing I did la -- er, my first year. And , well, I'm too stubborn to quit. What was the fuss about?"

"Mostly that we don't usually start electives until third year, unless you count clubs. I heard Snape humiliated Lockhart in Dueling Club last year," she added irrelevantly. "I almost liked him for a few minutes. But Hagrid's new at teaching and, um, the previous Care of Magical Creatures professor had lost some limbs, I think...."

Tom blinked. "I hope Madam Pomfrey was able to get them back on all right. So if it's that dangerous, why the special session?" Backtracking, he added, "Oh, I think I heard about that. Snape's probably... pretty dangerous in a duel."

"Apparently all he did was disarm him. Although Malfoy conjured a snake at Harry. And Care of Magical Creatures isn't nearly as dangerous if you go about it properly. Charlie says so." 

"...Malfoy conjured a snake at a Parselmouth?" Tom shook his head, then ran through his mental list of Weasleys. "Charlie's... the one who works for Gringotts? No, wait, sorry, the one who studies dragons. Well of course _he'd_ think so. Family talent."

"Bill's the one at Gringotts," Ginny said automatically, then blinked. "Nobody _knew_ Harry was a Parselmouth until then. And how'd you know what my brothers do?" 

"Harry told me. He thinks very highly of your family."

"Oh." No, there was no reason at all for the idea of Harry cataloguing her brothers for Tom to make her want to blush. Really. This combination hero-worship/crush was really very inconvenient. At least she'd stopped spilling porridge over it. "Mum had a fit the time Charlie brought a baby one home," she added, somewhat at random. She glanced over at the sunset again and quickened her steps.

"'Baby dragons eat almost constantly, chew anything within reach, and have yet to learn control of their flame ducts,'" Tom quoted absently. "I should think she would."

Ginny gave him a startled look. "What did you _do_, memorize the textbook?"

"Um. Well, I was really nervous about the class, and I figured it was that or ask for help." Tom coughed. "Seems kind of silly, in retrospect."

"I'm sure," Ginny replied diplomatically, "that it can't have hurt. But are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Ravenclaw?" She grinned.

Tom rolled his eyes, grinning back. "Oh yes, I have nothing better to do with my life than sit in the library. No thank you. Studying _that_ textbook gave me the nastiest paper cuts you've ever seen."

"Vicious, isn't it? Gives a whole new meaning to bookbinding."

"Gives me a whole new appreciation for Muggle books. Boring, lots of them, but at least they sit still."

Ginny laughed. "Well, yes..." 

"What sit still?" a very irritated voice asked from the doorway they were approaching. "What's so funny? Ginny, where have you BEEN? Oh, no, not you again."

"Nice to see you too, Ron," Tom said dryly.

"Be nice, Ron." Tom felt somewhat pleased to realize that the admonition had come from both Harry and Hermione, although Hermione sounded oddly frazzled. 

"We went to see Hagrid," Ginny replied, fairly composedly. "And Muggle books. Sit still instead of trying to bite your hands off, that is." 

Hermione peered at her through the dusk, looking rather puzzled. "Well, of course they do. So do most magic ones, for that matter." 

"Not the Care of Magical Creatures textbook. I just took the last bandages off yesterday."

"Oh, _that_ one." Hermione shook her head. "Speaking of biting, hurry up. Dinner had already started when we went looking for you."

Tom's stomach growled again, as if on cue. "Right. Guess we lost track of time."

Ron looked at him rather dubiously. "Right." 

"Why _were_ you going to see Hagrid at this hour?" Harry asked with interest as soon as they all got back indoors. He hadn't thought Tom was quite getting along with Hagrid yet, and this sounded promising. He hoped.

"Oh. Well, that was Ginny's idea, to help me pass Magical Creatures. We went to ask if she could supervise some extra credit sessions for me."

Harry blinked. "Ron said you were in the library earlier...." What he _wanted_ very much to ask was "When did she stop flinching at your shadow?" but that didn't seem quite tactful, especially with Ginny there, so instead he wound up with, "Ginny supervises Magical Creatures?" 

"Well, she does now. That was Hagrid's condition on, uh, letting me anywhere near his pets."

"Oh." Harry glanced sideways at Ron before yielding to the temptation to add, "No giant spiders, right?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so... should there be?"

"No." Harry could practically feel Ron glowering at him. "There's a colony of them in the Forbidden Forest, though. Don't go looking; they almost ate us, but the car chased them off."

"The car." Tom's tone spoke volumes. "You'll have to tell me that one later. If we're much later for dinner, though, Crabbe and Goyle will have eaten everything."

"They've never managed it before," Hermione remarked airily. 

"Not that they haven't _tried_, of course," Ginny added gravely. 

They could hear the noise of the Great Hall by this point. As they reached it, Tom waved to the Gryffindors and jogged over to the Slytherin table. "I'll see you later, Ginny. Thanks again."

Ginny waved back. Most of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables and a good portion of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stared at the new arrivals in astonishment. 

This was, all things considered, understandable.

"What," Rensington asked Tom incredulously, "were you doing with _them_?" 

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Ginny's helping me with some classes. Finished your laundry yet?"

"A Slytherin needs help from a Muggle-loving Gryffindor?" Draco drawled. "Sad day." The sarcasm drained out of his tone and expression as he got a good look at Rensington's face, which was as splotchily pink as his robes had been. He appeared to have changed in the interim. 

"A Slytherin makes the most of the opportunities he finds, Malfoy," Tom retorted coldly. "Unless you've got a better idea on how I can pass Care of Magical Creatures."

"Unbelievably stupid class," Malfoy muttered. "It's absurd that they let that _gamekeeper_ teach it, not even a real professor. Rensington, I realize it's a bit menial, but other than that the word 'laundry' shouldn't really cause you to break out." 

"Accident on the field, I believe," Tom answered for the speechless Rensington. "Pass those rolls, Goyle, I didn't get a full lunch."

The basket of rolls thumped down beside Tom's plate with enough force to bounce three of them into the air. He caught one, watching Rensington out of the corner of his eye in case of a sudden lunge.

"Grass," Rensington growled hoarsely, as if having difficulty speaking, "is not... PINK!"

"No," Malfoy replied slowly, looking somewhat disconcerted. "Not usually, no. Riddle, what on Earth did you do to him?"

"I didn't do a thing, Malfoy," Tom said, spreading butter on his roll. "Whatever happened, I can only conclude he brought it on himself."

"He's glaring at you and babbling about pink grass. Are you quite sure you didn't drive him insane for some reason?" From his tone, it was unclear whether Malfoy regarded this as treasonous, fascinating, wildly beyond what a half-Muggle should be capable of, or all of the above. 

"Stress, possibly. Hagrid gave us a particularly hard time this afternoon. Is that roast beef?"

"No, gargoyle ears," Malfoy replied exasperatedly. Tom decided this was what passed as a joke for Malfoy, and took three slices anyway. "Anyone bitten?"

"Only my handkerchief. Chameleons."

"_Chameleons_ gave you a hard time?" Malfoy shook his head disgustedly. "Second-years."

"Mm. Most people were running around and startling them. Once you know the trick, they aren't that difficult."

"Do you charm them to keep them from blending?" The person who had just chirped was a very small first-year girl. Most of the rest of the house was hoping she really was clever enough to be a credit to Slytherin, as so far her main talent appeared to be resembling a hummingbird. Tom personally suspected that she was very sensibly taking advantage of being puppyishly cute to get herself underestimated.

He smiled at her, hoping to pre-empt any scorn from Malfoy and his cronies. "Wish I'd thought of that, honestly. The way I was shown, you either feel around for them or wave something they can't blend into easily. Which is how my handkerchief got eaten, actually."

"A most tragic casualty," Malfoy put in, straight-faced. 

******

"How did you get suckered into _that_?" Fred was asking his little sister. 

Ginny rolled her eyes, stabbed a vaguely ear-shaped slice of roast beef, and replied patiently, "I'm not being suckered into anything. I'm helping. I _like_ Care of Magical Creatures."

"Well, sure, but...." Fred spread his hands expressively. "Tom Riddle, Ginny?" 

Next to him, George leaned forward. "If he's giving you a hard time, we've got this new fake candle we've been wanting to test. The Waxblobbinator."

"He's not giving me a hard time." She lowered her voice. "We shouldn't've come in together, though. Maybe with Harry there it'll be all right, but now that I'm not scared of him anymore we have to make sure Snape doesn't stop making us work together." 

Fred and George raised identical eyebrows. "I know that tone of voice," Fred said. "What're you two cooking up? Maybe we can help."

George nodded, but added, "And since when aren't you scared of him anymore, anyway? You used to come out of Potions white as a sheet."

"Well... today, really. I helped him with the chameleons in Care of Magical Creatures, and we talked. He's... nicer than I thought." She blushed and poked at her dinner with a fork. "I should've thought about it sooner, you know. Anybody else, especially a Slytherin, would've done something nasty to me for all the times I've ruined potions or spilled things on him so far."

George sat back. "Well, if he _does_ give you a hard time, remember you've got us to back you up."

Fred leaned over and poked her playfully. "Come on, though, what's the big secret from Snape? We've been aching to take him down a peg ever since the mudwort incident, but there's been no chance."

Ginny prudently looked as casually around the room as possible, making sure Snape was at his own seat, then smiled demurely. "Ask Colin for pictures after next week's lessons."

"A whole _week_?" Fred looked crestfallen at the prospect. "Well, it had better be good." Across the table, Hermione sniffed. "Is that why you wanted those potion books, Ginny? I hope you aren't going to get into any trouble. Professor Snape is unpleasant enough already."

"...It'll just be a little more to make up for." Besides, if they did it correctly the whole thing should look like an accident.

George grinned. "Spoken like a Weasley. We were beginning to think we had another Percy on our hands, Fred and I were."

Ginny's mouth twitched. "Perhaps Tom's a bad influence." And she couldn't believe she was joking about that.

*****

The wart cure was notably uneventful. Ginny looked almost as miserable and skittish as she always had throughout the rest of the class, which drew strange looks from the students who had happened to see her and Tom studying together during the previous week. Snape expressed caustic surprise when he discovered that they had nonetheless completed the potion accurately and with no odd substances staining the desk or floor. 

Naturally, he awarded points to Slytherin. Ginny looked anguished and resentful and kept her eyes away from Tom, who was looking very angelic and somewhat smug. She was afraid she might laugh.

The following week, after an intervening theory lecture, they had the much-anticipated Laughter Potion. Snape assigned her to work with Tom again, and Ginny tried to remember not to hold her breath waiting for the slug-slime.

"Cherry pits," Tom remarked absently, "and grape seeds. I keep half-expecting the cauldron to sprout."

Ginny sprinkled the mingled seeds carefully into the cauldron. She didn't have to fake her hand trembling this time.

The next ingredient was the slug-slime, which Tom very realistically fumbled as he reached to pick it up, slopping a good portion of it onto her hand. 

Ginny promptly shrieked. "Yuck! _Riddle_, that's revolting!" 

She actually felt slightly guilty about the complaint, even though it _was_ planned. Tom had been much nicer about having things spilled on him than anyone could really be expected to act. Resignation, perhaps.

"What seems to be the trouble, Weasley?" Snape's voice whipcracked from across the room. "Is the lesson too much for your delicate sensibilities?"

Ginny tried to scrape slime off her hand onto the edge of the desk and half-threw the measuring scoop at Tom, who caught it and applied an appropriately-sized dollop of slime to the cauldron. The contents turned pink and purple, which was what they were supposed to do.

"No, just my partner," Ginny snarled under her breath.

"Oh, I like that," Tom snapped. "Grow up. After all the crud you've poured on _me_...." 

"You're slimy to begin with!" Ginny brought both small fists down on the desk, not hard enough to jostle the cauldron.

"_Children,_" Snape purred, striding over toward their desk, "if you cannot control yourselves in class, I'm sure I could find alternate means of motivation."

Tom watched Snape approach in his peripheral vision and pretended not to hear him. "If you think for a minute," he said heatedly to Ginny, "that I'm going to put _up_ with --" On the word 'up' he swept his arm sharply across the desk, eyes fixed on his partner rather than on the cauldron or their professor.

He felt the impact that sent the cauldron flying off the desk, and slammed his own hands down on the surface before falling silent as if just realizing what he'd done and turning to look. 

Snape stood as if frozen, pink and purple liquid soaked into the front of his robes and dripping off the tip of his nose. There was a deadly silence, as the class collectively held its breath and Snape turned steadily more purple. Then, like a tree slowly cracking, then crashing to the ground, it happened. Snape began to laugh.

Colin's camera clicked madly. Ginny and Tom both stood as if Petrified, trying not to laugh themselves. Ginny was also desperately hoping that the two clicks she had heard before and during the spill would be disregarded. Colin HAD, after all, had the prudence to drive everyone mad making a photodocumentary of _all_ their classes this week.

With jerky, spasmodic motions, the professor pulled a vial out of a robe pocket, uncorked it, held it up to his nose, and inhaled the contents with a sharp sniff. Slowly but inexorably, his laughter subsided, but his glare remained, piercing Tom and Ginny where they sat.

It took some time for the snickers of the rest of the class to wear off. It did not, however, take long. Just because the glare was not directed at them didn't mean it had no effect.

For a few seconds, the classroom was deathly silent.

"Twenty points, Miss Weasley, from Gryffindor, for disrupting the class," Snape said unsteadily. "Fifteen from Slytherin, for clumsiness and temper. A minor commendation, Mr. Riddle, for successfully completing the potion. Both of you, however, are to report to Filch for detention after your classes for the day." He turned, spearing the rest of the class with his glare. "And the rest of you, _back to work!_"

He stalked back to his desk, then hissed, "The next disruption will not find me in nearly so lenient a mood."

There was a flurry of small motions and tiny plopping sounds as the other students returned to their potions in mingled shock, nervousness, and glee. Ginny rubbed at her slimed hand and tried not to look at anybody, especially Tom or Colin. Hopefully Colin would put his camera away before Snape looked his way again.

One Slytherin pair's cauldron spouted a small electric-blue fountain, which fortunately failed to escape. Other than that, none of the other potions did anything particularly exciting. 

Nobody, however, found this particularly disappointing. 

*****

"It worked! Ginny, that was great!" Colin was practically skipping when he caught up with them, safely out of the Potions dungeon and well away from Snape's hearing. "I can't believe you two! ...I can't believe Snape didn't confiscate my film, but he was too busy glaring at you." 

Tom snickered a bit hysterically. "I thought he was going to turn us into something awful," he said. "Did you _see_ the way it dripped off his nose?"

"I," Colin replied smugly, "got a picture right when the drop was about to fall." 

Tom shook his head, grinning. "I'm going to be in _so_ much trouble when I go back to the Slytherin dorm. And then there's our detention. Still... I'd do it again in a second. The expression on his face!"

Colin looked at him curiously. "You know, I can't imagine pulling something like that on Professor McGonagall...."

"Well, of course not. She's _scary_. And also honest, which is worse -- by rights, I should've gotten more points taken off than Ginny, I was the one who actually spilled it on him. When Professor McGonagall punishes you, you know you actually deserve it."

"That was fairer than I was expecting, actually," Ginny murmured.

"Yeah, I think that _was_ his way of being even-handed. We're going to have to work something out so I can see those pictures when you get them developed, Colin."

"We will." Colin grinned and glanced around; Tom followed his gaze and realized he was surrounded by highly amused Gryffindors. Come to think of it, that probably was safer for him, at the moment.... "For that we might get away with sneaking you into the common room, at least if it was just before the password was supposed to change." 

Ginny choked on her own laughter at that.

Tom stumbled a step on the smooth floor, but caught himself quickly. "Uh, well, if you're sure that'd be all right."

"We'll check. If that won't work we can always find someplace else." Ginny grinned at Colin. "Make lots of copies."

"Believe me, I will." 

Ginny rubbed at the slime on her hand, now dried to a slightly tacky silver, then chuckled and lifted it to show Tom. "Hmph. Your color." 

Tom blinked. "My color?"

"Silver. At least nobody got dyed green today." 

Tom laughed. "Yes, well. At least that'll wash off. Rensington's still trying to redye his robe."

"Are you serious? He hasn't gotten anybody to un-set the stains _yet_?"

"Get someone _else_ to do it? A _Slytherin_?" Tom chuckled. "In a word, no. You should've seen Malfoy when he finally weaseled out the whole story."

"Oh really? What did he do?" Ginny's eyes sparkled eagerly. "And can you tell me fast enough we won't be late for our next classes?"

"Well, let's just say Rensington was this far away from sporting a second set of stains."

"How unproductive."

Tom snorted. "Object lesson, I think was the intention. Incentive."

"Pink grass-stains aren't enough incentive by themselves?" Ginny sniffed in mock indignation. "I think I'm insulted."

"Malfoy's only impressed by himself, you know that."

"Low standards," she remarked sweetly.

Tom laughed. "I replaced him as Seeker, remember? You'll get no argument from me."

"And I bet he's still mad." She glanced at a hall clock with a cassowary instead of a cuckoo. "Better get to class.... See you in detention."

Tom grinned ruefully. "Won't that be something to look forward to."

*****


End file.
